


Elaboration

by kscribbles



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Couch Sex, F/M, Prequel, Quiet Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh yes, he wanted her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elaboration

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of prequel to my fic [At Light Speed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/500892). In that, the Doctor and Rose enjoy their fourth time together. The first three were briefly mentioned. Here they are, a little less brief. So... even more of a pwp than usual. Sue me. ;) Thanks very much to Platypus for the very diligent betaing. Written in 2010.

“Rose,” his voice hissed in the darkness. She barely heard it over the pounding of her heart. She was lost, had got turned around in this maze of foliage on this strange night planet ( _“No sun, Rose, and yet it never gets terribly cold, isn't that amazing!”_ ), had been separated from him somehow as they escaped a giant, pursuing beast (less amazing, those beasts were).

She couldn't see him yet through the shadows, but she sighed in relief anyway.

“Here,” she called quietly.

She heard a few tentative steps crunch leaves on the forest floor, and then a blur of something pale and dark and Doctor-shaped was flinging itself at her and wrapping strong arms around her.

“Are you all right?” he mumbled into her hair as he squeezed her desperately. She could feel his hearts hammering away in his chest against hers and she could swear he was trembling.

“I'm okay. Might need to breathe, though.”

He released her suddenly, but didn't step away. Instead his hands cupped her face and in the starlight filtering through the trees, she could tell he was assessing her for injuries. She had a couple scratches, one on her cheek and one on her forehead as well; sharp branches weren't very friendly. But she wasn’t concerned with those.

“Is it gone?” she whispered, wondering about the not-so-timorous beastie.

“No. But misled in the opposite direction.” His fingers trailed slow paths over her skin. “Are you sure you're– You've a cut...”

His voice was low and full of concern and something else unidentifiable as he trailed off. A second later she was stunned to feel his lips graze the small wound on her cheek, and again on the deep scratch on her forehead.

Her pulse, which had only just slowed to something approaching normal, started galloping again.

“Dropped the sonic in the forest somewhere,” he said, sounding as dazed as she felt. “That will help, it’s...” she saw him swallow, shake his head. “... anti-bacterial.”

His words probably weren’t supposed to sound sexy, but she could feel her body flushing. He still hadn't taken his eyes off her. Or his hands.

He was taking deep full breaths through his nose, each heave of his lungs pushing against her chest, though she was fairly sure _she_ wasn't breathing at all.

He spoke slowly. “Rose, I'm sorry. I let you go. You're hurt and I shouldn't–” He couldn't finish the sentence. “I'm sorry,” he said again, and kissed her.

_Kissed her_. Properly; his lips on hers this time, and she didn't waste a moment being shocked or questioning why _this_ , why _now_ ; she just kissed him back. Gently at first, matching him, but he deepened the kiss quickly, opening his mouth, prompting her to do the same. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming it and her with strong strokes that sent coils of pleasure burning through her. His hands slipped into her hair and hers wound around him. She pulled away after a few heavenly moments, needing to catch her breath.

“My mouth okay?” she teased, softly into the dark.

“What?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Your anti-bac–”

“Oh!” He gave a small laugh. “Yes, fine. You have... a wonderful mouth.”

He kissed her again, delved quickly into her mouth and then moved down her jaw, her neck, peppering her with urgent kisses, teeth and tongue against her skin.

“Are we safe?” she breathed, clutching his shoulders.

He said nothing and his hands slid to her waist, slipping under her T-shirt, distracting her.

“From the beast thing?” she tried again.

“Not really, no,” he said, soberly, coming up, catching her lips once more. “No,” he repeated, against her lips.

“Then–?”

He swallowed her question, one hand against the bare skin of the small of her back, the other thrust back into her hair as he hauled her against him and did his best to snog her breathless again. She barely knew what she was doing when she began shoving ineffectually at his long coat, only that she wanted, _needed_ to touch him.

“Need–” she gasped out when he released her lips for a moment.

“Yes,” he muttered, and stepped away from her long enough to shed the garment and lay it out on the ground beneath them. He took off his jacket as well, dropping it where he stood, and then reached for her hand and pulled her down onto his coat with him.

“I should be frightened,” she said breathlessly as they tumbled together, kissing, touching, trying to wriggle out of clothing without losing contact.

“Probably,” he agreed when he had her on her back, licking a line across the top of her breast, tossing her t-shirt over his shoulder and attacking the fastenings of her jeans.

“Of that thing coming back for us,” she explained as pushed off her trainers with her feet and tried to get at his trousers as well.

“Right.” He nodded against her skin.

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

He cried out triumphantly as he whipped off her jeans and knickers. On his knees between her legs he finished the job she’d started on his trousers and pushed them and pants off his hips. She stared, she couldn’t help it. Waking up this morning she hadn’t thought that by night (it was only midday, some small, Doctor-sounding part of her brain reminded her), she’d be running from a giant wild animal, and getting an eyeful of the Doctor’s hard cock.

Okay, maybe the running bit, but the other... She cursed this amazing planet’s lack of sun again. And then praised it, hoping it might cover her stare and likely her full-body flush.

“Is this...?” he began, clearly asking if what they were about to do was okay. If it would change things, ruin things. He sounded oddly vulnerable.

“It’s _wonderful_ ,” she quickly assured him. “Come here.”

 

II.

 

“It’s just a terribly short skirt is all,” he said, grabbing a nibble off a passing tray. “Even for this planet’s standards. You could catch cold.”

She snorted. “No I couldn’t. You _know_ I couldn’t. It’s downright balmy here. Earlier you gave me a whole lecture on how this palace was in the dead centre of this planet’s tropics. Very warm. ‘Sultry,’ I think you said. Remember?”

“Of course,” he said, trying to look like he wasn’t subtly steering them through the crowd towards an exit. “But that doesn’t mean... Honestly, Rose, every bloke in here–”

“The TARDIS set it out as planet-appropriate,” she pointed out.

“Did she? I’ll have a word.” He paused.

“What?”

He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Rose, I don’t want to alarm you.” She stiffened a bit as he went on. “But if we don’t leave soon, that premier is going to drag me away and talk my ear off again.”

She blew out her breath in relief. Was about to make a ‘shoe being on the other foot comment’ but found herself distracted by his bright eyes, the twitching of his mouth as he held in a smile. She loved it when the Doctor was this happy. And he was speaking again before she got a word in.

“I saved the planet, I know, but in how many ways and for how _long_ can someone convey their appreciation?“ She bit her tongue. “Don’t answer that. But, Rose, the thing is... I... I don’t remember how to get out of here,” he confessed.

She smiled at him. “Bit distracted, were you?” she asked, running her hand only a little unsubtly over the arm of his dinner jacket.

“No,” he squeaked before clearing his throat and recovering. “I was worried about your virtue, Rose. Is it my fault if this species, and particularly the males thereof, are especially intrigued by the colour of your skin? You’d think your pink isn’t _that_ for off from their orange. No one seems particularly interested in _my_ skin,” he whined. “And why not, it’s nice isn’t it? But I leave you alone for a few minutes and they have to ogle. And touch! Really that’s just–”

“Doctor.” She tried to warn him that the Premier had spotted them and was fast approaching.

“I blame my ship.”

“For... my _skirt_?” she asked, not following.

“Come on!” He grabbed her hand and tugged, apparently having spotted an exit.

But they were stopped by two meaty orange hands, as the Premier nudged his way between them and clasped them both around the shoulders. She groaned in frustration.

“Doctor! There you are! Not running away, are you? You must come meet...” The sound of his voice got immediately lost in the crowd as he pulled the Doctor away from her. She watched them go: the one man in the room who appeared to not be interested in her at all, and the only one whose interest she was... interested in. The Doctor sent her a helpless look over his shoulder as he was yanked to meet whoever was so important.

She blew her hair out of her face and took herself back to the drinks table, snatching up something fizzy that tasted appley and cold. Inevitably the overly-curious, touchy-feely orange blokes sauntered up to her, but despite what the Doctor seemed to suspect, they were very polite, usually even asking before they pet her skin. She could see the Doctor across the room, see even from here that he was trying to find a way out of the conversation he’d been sucked into. She was, she thought, becoming more and more adept at reading the Doctor’s body language.

And she was nearly certain that he’d gleaned the promise behind her flirting earlier, and that he wanted the same thing. But it had been a few days since the forest without any further... incident. Not that they’d been awkward with each other. Far from it, actually. More like nothing had changed at all. Which was fine, she supposed. The Doctor wasn’t like human men, with (as her mother had drilled into her from an early age) only one thing on their minds. The subject just hadn’t come up. So to speak.

But when he turned from the group he was stood with to search the crowd, and finally locked eyes with her, she hadn’t a single doubt.

Oh yes, he wanted her.

From across the room, his look said, _Get us out of here. I will make it worth your while._

She raised her eyebrows at him. Challenge accepted.

She silently thanked the TARDIS’s wardrobe choice if her short skirt had helped... spur him into action, but she knew it had to be more than just that. Was he jealous of the orange men he’d had to leave her in the care of? Was it the heavy, moist air or just the atmosphere of celebration? She shook her head and set her glass down with determination. The _why_ didn’t matter. What mattered now was the _how_ and the _where_. And the when? Well, as soon as possible.

She brushed aside her latest admirer and started for the circle standing around the Doctor and his biggest fan. Only... how would she get them out of here with any social grace? By the end of the short trip across the room, she decided she’d had quite enough of subtle and polite for one evening. She told the truth.

She took a deep breath and tapped the larger, oranger man on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Premier, sir. Your... Premiership. Fabulous party, but we really do have to go. It’s very late, and I absolutely must get to bed.”

All the eyes focused on her widened, and she didn’t stop too long to wonder whether _they_ gleaned her meaning or were just marvelling at the audacity of this pale alien who dared pull away the Premier’s newest toy. But pull him away she did, and no one stopped her. No one said a word as she tugged him toward where they’d been heading before being interrupted.

As it happened, they didn’t make it to bed. Or even to TARDIS. What he had thought was an exit just led, after several twists and turns, to a long, mercifully empty hallway of this labyrinthine palace.

In seconds she was up against a wall, her legs around his waist, and her knickers having vanished, possibly into thin air.

“You, Rose Tyler, are _brilliant_ ,” he very nearly growled, and pushed inside her so swiftly it took her breath away.

 

iii.

 

Rose was asleep against him. They’d been settled on Jackie’s couch of a winter evening, having tea, letting Rose catch up with her mum and with the telly. But the television had ceased being interesting a while ago, and once Rose had fallen asleep against his shoulder, Jackie too had grown tired (apparently he wasn’t entertaining enough on his own) and had taken herself off to bed. She had tossed a fluffy throw at him and told him to be quiet when he eventually headed back to the TARDIS. Living alone had made her jumpy, she’d said, and the front door could wake her.

He’d shrugged, settled the small blanket around them and turned the volume down on the television. After some time, Rose shifted in her sleep, turning to lie on her side, her feet in his lap. But almost immediately she pulled him down beside her, behind her actually, sleepily muttering something about being cold. He wrapped his arms around her as best he could, after covering them both up again. He kissed her shoulder through her jumper and settled, hoping Rose would stir well before morning. Jackie might not take too kindly to finding them spooned up together on her settee.

It was rare that he could just hold her like this. He breathed her in, her scent still carrying with it the hints of winter outside (it would snow sometime tonight), and the pvimoraleen berries that perfumed the whole planet of Pvi VII, where they’d been a few hours ago. She’d smiled at him in the sunlight there in an open field, and he wanted her right then, but there were others around, and back in the TARDIS she’d mentioned her mum, and there went that idea.

Beneath those fragrances was the heady scent of _just Rose_ , which it seemed of late, he couldn’t get enough of. It was intoxicating.

He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, trying to think of other things. The TARDIS library needed reorganizing... The haderofenous-filters needed cleaning... But then his hand accidentally brushed her breast, and her nipple beneath clothes and bra was stiff, and she shifted her hips into his and moaned lightly in her sleep, and that was it. He was getting hard.

He closed his eyes, drew on inner reserves he hoped he had, and tried to calm himself. Rose was still asleep, after all. But ever since they’d given in and shagged each other senseless on a distant forest’s floor, his self control had been decidedly limited.

And Rose shifted against him again, raised her leg up over his hip and ran her foot along his leg. She was waking up, and knew (and likely felt) exactly what he was thinking about.

She let her foot drop and pulled his arms into a tighter snuggle. “Mmm,” she murmured sleepily, “’s nice.”

He said nothing.

“Mum gone?” she whispered after a few moments.

“Yes,” he croaked, as her hand reached behind her and stroked him through his trousers. “Headed off to bed an hour ago.”

“’kay,” she said non-committally, and ceased the motion of her hand.

Thinking she might be falling back asleep, he clutched her denim-clad hip beneath the blanket, breathed shallowly, and tried not to move.

One minute passed, then another. Then 47 seconds.

“We could, you know,” Rose said quietly, suddenly.

“What?” he breathed out against her neck.

“Fuck,” she said simply. “If you want.”

His hearts immediately picked up their pace at the sound of the vulgar, solid word from her lips, and his cock received the message just as quickly.

He steadied his breathing, and tried to sound like he didn’t care either way, knowing he was failing, pretty much. “I... Do _you_ want?”

“Could sleep more...” she said, but he heard the smile in her voice.

Oh, they really, really shouldn’t. As he’d recently discovered, when it came to adventures of an amorous nature, Rose wasn’t exactly _quiet_.

What was he _thinking_? Jackie was sleeping just a few feet down the hall. They absolutely could not do this.

“ _Rose_ ,” he warned, as she took the hand he had on her hip and pulled it, very slowly, to the button on her jeans.

“Not my first time, Doctor.”

“Well, I know _that_ ,” he said automatically before his preoccupied brain caught up. _Oh_. She meant sex on this couch. Or sex while her mum was home. Or both, and that didn’t bear any further thinking about... Who else she might have been...?

And then his hands were moving and he was undoing her button and zip, more quickly and more loudly than was probably prudent. He pulled her jeans down as far as he could, thankful that this wasn’t one of her more painted-on pairs, and shifted enough to reach between her legs from behind to explore and tease her. There was little need, Rose was already slippery wet for him. He groaned and then immediately muffled it in her shoulder.

She pushed back against him, moaning herself, and he stilled the fingers that had slipped inside her, advising her with a harsh whisper to keep quiet. She gave a short squeak and he knew she’d bitten her lip to mute her sounds. He kept still until he felt her nod. He stroked in and out of her heat several more times until she was panting, clutching at his other hand. A few more thrusts of his fingers and her squirming threatened to spill them off the couch.

“Please,” she whispered, straining her neck to try to kiss him. “Can’t wait.”

It was his turn to nod and he withdrew from her and fumbled awkwardly with his trousers. He somehow wrestled free of them, trying to keep his movements measured, slow, quiet, even though he wanted nothing more than to yank everything off the both of them and plunge into her. Before replacing the blanket over them enough to mostly hide their activity, they managed to liberate one of her legs from its denim prison as well, leaving them enough room to...

She sighed as he sank into her. He moved and she gasped loudly. He stilled, listening to the sounds of the flat, sure disaster would rain down on them any second. Then she whimpered and moved impatiently against him and he surged forward more powerfully than he’d meant to. “Fuck,” she breathed the word again as he pulled back and tried to keep this torturous, slow pace, before realising that was probably futile.

“Can I...” he begged, “...a little faster?”

“Yes,” she said through her teeth, pulling one of her knees up towards her chest. “Please.”

“Will you keep quiet?” He anchored her hip with his hand, rocking more quickly, more deeply into her.

“No, oh _god_.”

“Sssshhh!” he hissed, clamping his hand down over her mouth as he pushed her onto her stomach, giving him even more leverage to speed up his hips, to drive faster into her. The throw barely covering them tumbled onto the floor, and if anyone should happen upon them now he’d be regenerating again much sooner than he’d like, and it didn’t matter, none of it did, only Rose’s vice grip around him did, her hips beneath his, her teeth sinking into his fingers as she came.

And then a mouthful of cotton fibres as he buried his face in her jumper to stifle his shout when he followed.

He panted against her back for a moment, listening to their surroundings again. All was as it should be. Just the low hum of the television and their combined breathing. He eventually ventured a whisper.

“All right?” he asked. “I wasn’t too... quick?”

“Uh-uh,” she said into the couch cushion. And then turned her head enough for un-garbled speech, raising a hand to run it through his hair, but the angle made it an awkward head pat. “We’ll take our time next time. Yeah?”

He brushed her hair away from her ear and brought his lips right to the shell of it, making sure she’d not miss a word. “Next time, Rose, I’m taking you somewhere we can be as loud as we like.”

 

 

FIN  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
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